Monday, August 4, 2014

[Kids Were Here] - August 2014

"Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons," -

Stop by and see Shawnery's beautiful season here

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Letters to our Daughters - July 15, 2014

Dear E,

Oh, what can I say about you?  You are so much more than words or pictures can ever describe.  I find as you get older, the harder it is to put my thoughts into words when it comes to you.

You are a force beyond words.  And yet, you are compassionate. 

You ask me regularly about the "owie in my tummy."  You want me to show you where it is, then shower me with kisses, and hugs, and pats on my owie and declare it's "all better now."

I love how you are finally showing that independent streak that I know you have and dressing yourself, and starting your own movies.  You've even tried to get your own breakfast and pour your own drinks.  As much as I fear the mess that brings, I am ever so proud of you wanting to try.

You take in the world around you with such abandon.  Nothing gets you down.  You are so full of "why's" and I don't have all the answers, but you are so determined to find them.

I can't believe how much time has passed since those days before you were such a part of my life.  You bring such joy to everyone you meet.

You are the very epitome of amazing.  And I love every little bit of you.

Please be sure to visit and see Nicole's letter to her daughter.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Random, sad statistic

1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage.  25%.

I've had 3 out of 5 fail.  That's 60%.

And yet, that's normal.  And not a concern?  It couldn't be caused by something else internally going on.  It's just "one of those things."


Let me just say this, though.  I am ok.  I do not feel the same amount of devastation I had from the first two.  Maybe it's because I am truly lucky and blessed with my two.  And content.  They are my life and my miracles and I love having them in my life.    The only two my body decided not to reject.

Truly meant to be.

[Kids Were Here] - July 2014

"I love those random memories that make me smile, no matter what is going on in my life right now."

Be sure to visit Kelly's page and see what memories her baby has in store. 

Friday, July 4, 2014

So. What is normal?

I wish I knew. 

I don't know normal.  My body doesn't know normal.

I can't remember how many times I've been told "I've never seen that before" in relation to some condition my body has dreamed up.

"I've never seen such an advanced case of endometriosis in someone so young."

"I've never seen a cervix dilate backwards."

"I've never seen gestational diabetes present so early."

"I've never seen a cyst like this following a miscarriage." 

Enough already with the "I've never seen's."  Why is it that even though I keep getting told "I've never seen that before" after I push my way into being evaluated, does the medical profession still not seem to think I know when somethings wrong.  Why is it, that 6 weeks into this most recent bout, am I still fighting for recognition that something isn't right.  That this isn't "normal" following a miscarriage.

I'm pretty sure the endometriosis is back, and I'm no longer sure how to get the doctors to do the testing needed for it.  After all, endometriosis doesn't "normally" present this severely in such a short time.  Never mind such a strong family history of it.....

So, long story short.  In these last 6 weeks, I've had a miscarriage, followed immediately by a 6cm cyst that then ruptured (I thought the pain from the miscarriage was bad....).  Then developed another cyst and a uterine fibroid on the right side.

And yet.  All of this is normal....

Monday, June 2, 2014

{Kids Were Here - June 2014}

You can always tell the age of the child in the house by what's left behind. Sometimes, it's those messes you want to remember. This blog is an attempt to remember those things.

Check out Lauren's beautiful messes.

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Letters to our Daughters - May 15, 2014

Dear E,

(This post is going to be rather long, as this was a very eventful week we just had.  And since this is part of a blog circle I participated in, I wanted to make sure you have a chance to visit Nicole's blog and read her letter to her daughter here.)  

I am not even sure where to start this letter.  This seems to be a common theme, I know.  I am still processing the events of the past week in our lives, and as they are very important to the story of your life, I want to share them with you in a way that might help you remember when you are grown.  And maybe even tell your own children someday.

You see, you are one very special little girl.  You always have been.  And you would still be even if you hadn't been born 11 weeks premature.  And a 4 hour plane ride away.  (To see more of this my dear, see this blog entry.)  However, this part of your history is pivotal to your story.

We have JUST returned home from a visit to your NICU.  That place we spent 47 long days, after 19 long days on bed rest.  The place that haunts my memories, and yet holds a very special place in my heart.  That place saved you.  But I hate that you had to be there.  That's quite a contradiction to wrap my head around.

I did ok, until we walked through those doors.  Even now, I steal myself against the tears of remembering that moment.  I can hardly explain the intensity of the feelings that washed over me as the sight of that hallway, and that very distinct smell of that NICU crashed into me like a tidal wave.  While it didn't stop me in my tracks, oh did it hurt in a strange way.  4 years ago we walked out those doors and I swore I would never go back.  Too much pain came with that place.  But the people we left behind were too important to truly leave it all behind.

We even went to your very room as it did not hold any tiny, sick babies at the moment (thankfully!) Your nurse even went so far as to make sure there was an isolette in the room so you could see it.  So you could know just how much went into your care.  Room 226.  Straight down the hall from the entrance and off to the right.  Probably one of the only rooms in the entire NICU without any windows.

As fascinated as you were, you seemed a little withdrawn.  A little unsure of this machine in front of you.  Almost afraid to touch it.

But your curiosity won out and you did.  Even though you wouldn't put your hand inside to feel how warm it was in there.


Even now, just from looking back in my mind at the memory of walking in those doors and down that hall, I feel completely drained.  The emotions sucked dry.  That empty feeling that comes from being emotionally wasted.  I did not expect that reaction.  I was apprehensive to go, but I did not truly expect to be that overwhelmed by emotions.  I don't know still that I have processed it all.  Or that I ever will.
There are moments that just define you.  That just change the course of your life.  Some of them, you chose to make happen.  Some of them are thrown in your face when the rug is pulled out from under you and all you can do is stand back up and keep moving forward.

I think this moment defined me.  Not you.  As you will never be defined by your prematurity.  You have proven time and again that prematurity will not hold you back.  That it's just a word.  That it's just a part of your story.  But I will always, and forever, be a preemie mom.

You changed my life.  Not in the "simple" way of "making" me a mother.  But in showing me what I could do.  That, as the Kutless song says, impossible is not a's just a reason for someone not to try.  

What an amazing person you are.  You changed more lives than you will ever know.  The hearts you touched while in the hospital, and the healing you gave. 

And it doesn't really stop there.  You seem to give hope . The more your story is shared.  The more people who see you in all your 4 year old glory.  Healthy, happy, spunky.

So for that very reason alone, I will keep sharing you, your life and your story.  And I hope someday you will want to share it yourself.  Stand up proud and say that prematurity did not hold you down.  Did not keep you from achieving your dreams.  It didn't define you, but you took the challenge by the head.  You squared your shoulders and stuck your tongue out at the world. 

I am so very thankful you got to meet some of the people so pivotal to those first days.  Not only did they care for you, but they cared for me.  They gave me the strength to go on.  To keep putting that foot in front of the other.

There is much more detail to our trip than just our visit to the NICU, but that is another post, for another day.  And, I think, what I want you to know the most as you grow up.  The itty bitty details of getting on a plane, seeing some butterflies, cactus walks, meeting lots of new people, will always be there and you will probably remember it.  But knowing that you changed lives, that you had an impact just by being born, that you won't know unless you are told.